


Teach Me How to Fish

by evdi



Series: By the River's Bank [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (it was only a joke), Idiots in Love, Link is smooth AF (citation needed), Link is too pure for this world, M/M, This started out as a joke, accidental come-ons, how did it end up like this, how to succeed at relationships without really trying, important Zora traditions, this story is 5000 words longer than it honestly needs to be, trying to balance Link’s past with his dialogue choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evdi/pseuds/evdi
Summary: Link has never been good with relationships — of any kind. He’s been hiding out at Hyrule castle for a week now, trying to work up the courage to return to Zora’s Domain and actually talk to Sidon about what happened.It's lucky for him that Princess Zelda is there, ready and willing to give him some much needed advice! (Isn’t it?)





	Teach Me How to Fish

**Author's Note:**

> If you read the first one, then you know where this is going.  
> If you haven’t then I suggest you read it first!

Link is not _avoiding_ Zora's Domain.

See, avoiding Zora’s Domain would require actively thinking about Zora’s Domain, which would mean thinking about Sidon, which would mean thinking about—

Link is not avoiding Zora’s Domain.

He’s just had other things to do. Constantly. For the past week. Afterall, Ganon may be defeated but Link is still the Hero of Hyrule, and there is always someone or something that needs to be saved. 

The fact that the something he’s currently saving is a pile of old manuscripts in a dark corner of the ruins of Hyrule Castle is no one’s business but his own. Well, and the princess’s of course, but she had asked for the help and remained (skeptically) grateful for it.

“Are you sure you can spare so much time?” Zelda’s voice echoes softly in the half-collapsed hallway, accented and kind. “I really don’t mind, you know, if you have to leave. I have always understood your duties, even when I was trying to escape them.” 

Her smile is gentle and teasing. Link shakes his head at her and sets about extracting the next tome from underneath the rubble. They work together smoothly, better now than they did before. Her guards move the largest rocks and beams, he moves the smaller ones and digs out whatever dusty old tome or manuscript she remembers next, and she sorts and organized them in relative safety a few feet back. The titles are all terribly boring. _History of Goron Mining Treaties. Trade Routes in Tabantha. Grassland Cultures and Nomadic Decline._

They sound like the kind of books Sidon would enjoy reading.

Link drops a chunk of rubble on his own foot, blushing. Zelda looks at him with a mix of amusement and concern, lips twitching in a smile. He hasn’t told her anything, but he has the horrible thought that she _knows_ and he just can’t deal with that right now. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, just looks down at the list she made earlier and purses her lips before glancing back at him.

“Have you seen a book with blue binding and silver foil yet? It should be quite large, and very old. I rather wanted to find that one.”

Link sits back on his heels, and cocks his head at her. He knows the gesture annoys her — he knows his silence in general annoys her — but he doesn’t feel all that comfortable around her new guards yet. Zelda just shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, and smiles.

“It’s called _The Progression of Zoran Abilities_. I remember reading it when I was young, but I’m afraid I’ve rather forgotten the finer details and it seems rude to — Link, are even listening.”

He jerks, and nods his head. He was absolutely listening. Right up to the part about Zoran abilities, at least.

Zelda narrows her eyes at him but says nothing. He goes back to the rubble, and manages to unearth three books on fishing in various cultures, four more on mining, and one on Rito etiquette. This one he shows Zelda specifically, drawing his brows together and his shoulders up in an exaggerated huff. Her guards are still watching, so he doesn’t make the joke he wants to. But the princess seems to get it anyway, by the way she laughs and holds the book close to her chest, keeping it separate from the others.

Revali needed this book more than they do, is what they both think but neither say.

Nightfall finds them up a dozen more books, though not the one Zelda was after. She hauls herself up with a sigh, looking over the piles of recovered tomes and records. The lamplight casts shadows on her face, and Link has a hard time reading her expression. He thinks she’s happy, though. She’s thumbing absently through one of the fishing books with a vague smile playing on her lips. When he reaches to touch her arm — lightly, just above the elbow, a line between friendly and respectful he’s still trying to define — she turns that smile on him.

“Will you be staying again tonight?” The way she says it gives him pause, like she thinks he won’t. When she catches sight of his expression, she smirks. “Do not pretend as though you truly want to, Link. I have run away from my own problems long enough to know when someone else is doing the same.”

He blushes and looks away, though he lets his hand linger on her arm. She doesn't remove it.

“...not a problem,” he mumbles, low so only she can hear it. The guards are around but further away, clearing out rubble and bringing the books to a safer part of the castle. 

The look in her eye makes him almost regret speaking. He knows that look. It got three of his ribs broken once. But Zelda just laughs gently, and goes back to the book in her hand, fingers trailing absently down the page. Almost offhand, she says, “Did you know that spear fishing only recently became popular among the Zora? Originally, they only fished by hand. It was said to be a test of skill.”

Link doesn’t say anything. He’s pretty sure this is a trap.

Zelda continues, her voice unnaturally smooth. “Now only the best Zora warriors are equally skilled at both hand and spear fishing.” Zelda pauses, and glances up at him with a wide-eyed look of interest so fake, he feels momentarily insulted. “I wonder which that lovely Zora prince prefers. You should ask him.”

“That’s, that’s...” Link hides his dark red cheeks behind his hands, not longer able to look at his oldest friend. Okay, so maybe he needed to talk to Sidon (eventually) but that was...was...

Well, not actually the worst idea. But still. He is pretty sure he has standards, even if he doesn’t know what they are.

“I mean, I can’t just...” Link bites his lip, letting his hands fall to under his chin. Carefully he looks at Zelda. “Is it stupid? I know I can just talk to him. I know that. I just...”

“I don’t know what happened between you and,” Zelda holds up a hand, palm out, “I don’t want to. But I know how you get caught up in your own head. And sometimes it’s hard to talk to people about important matters. When that happens, I find it is better to talk to them about unimportant matters than not talk to them at all.”

She holds the book out — a slim volume with _History of Coastal Fishing_ stamped into the cover — and smiles at him encouragingly. “Go. Talk to him. I will always be here if you need me.”

He hesitates briefly before grabbing the book and, before he can think better of it, grabbing Zelda in a tight but brief embrace. It lasts barely long enough for him to feel her hands on his back before he’s pulling away and backing up, already fingering the Sheikah slate and trying to think of what to say. With a nod to Zelda, and an awkward wave to her retinue, he ducks out of the chamber they were working in and shuffles down the hall out of sight.

He could have Shrine-hopped in front of them, but it always makes him feel weird when people watch. He considers choosing Dagah Keek for privacy, but there is never anyone down at the Ne’ez Yohma Shrine and it’s right in the middle of the Domain. Plus, he can often find Sidon by his sister’s statue this time of night, talking to her in that low, soft voice he uses when he’s not in public, telling her about his day and the restoration progress and the current state of Domain politics. Telling her about him, sometimes.

If he wants to talk to Sidon, now would be the best time to go.

And he _does_ want to talk to Sidon. Or he thinks he wants to. Or he wants to want to, he just isn’t sure what to _say_. He had to leave so quickly last time — the combination of a resurgence of Lizalfos in the Wetlands and a Hinox by the stables had been too deadly to let the locals deal with alone, and needed his immediate attention — that he barely had time to talk to Sidon at all. 

Especially after they spent so much time doing...other things.

Link can feel his face burning even as he selects Ne’ez Yohma on the slate, and closes his eyes. His body tingles as the ancient magic takes hold, and a for a moment he is weightless. He feels himself solidify in the cool shelter of the shrine. The soothing smell of lotus flowers and hushed skitter of the resident crabs help to ground him back in his body. He has gotten used to the vertigo that accompanied shrine-travel, but the disoriented sense of bodilessness is something he honestly hates.

It makes him feel like he could just...float away. Disappear, lost in time or between worlds. Sometimes, he thinks he already has.

Still, it is the fastest, if not the most pleasant, way to traverse the wide and varied lands of Hyrule, and is especially useful for dropping in unannounced to visit a certain member of the Zoran royal family.

Which is what he is doing.

Right now.

Link stays rooted to the spot where he landed at the base of the shrine, eyeing the stairs dubiously. The moon glints off the wet rock, painting the steps with silver accents. A crab skitters by his foot. 

This…

...was a terrible idea.

What is he supposed to say. He has nothing to say. He has too many things to say. He has no idea what this is, what to call it, call them. They didn’t say. _Sidon didn’t say._

He said enough, the more rational part of his brain argues. Link ignores it. 

What is he supposed to do, just walk up to the most charming and beautiful man he has ever (in two separate lifetimes) met and say...and say...you know that thing you did before, the one with your lips and your tongue and your hands and—

Sex, his mind supplies helpfully. It’s called sex.

He can’t.

No way he can just _talk_ about _sex_. Or _feelings_. And with _Sidon_. He can’t even talk to Zelda about books. He can’t even talk to Zelda’s guards about Zelda. What made him think he could ever talk to Sidon about relationships?

If that’s what this even was (that’s what this was) because Sidon had never actually said (Sidon had all but said) the last time he was here, and Link just...

He can’t do this.

Link takes a deep breath, and mentally shakes himself. His hands, which had clenched around his slate and the book so tightly they were beginning to cramp, relax marginally. He considers the book again, head tilting down in thought.

Maybe Zelda is right. As always.

They could talk about fishing. Fishing is safe. He likes fish. He can talk a lot about fish. Regional fish varieties. Porgies versus carp. Cooking with fish. Kissing fish princes.

Link smiles dreamily to himself. Well, maybe not the last one. But, ugh. Kissing Sidon was nice. So, so nice, and he really, really wants to do it again (and again, and again) but he doesn’t know _how_. He just needs—

“Link?”

Link startles violently, nearly dropping a thousand years worth of highly portable and questionably durable Sheikah tech on the ground. He does drop the book. It lands in the water with a sad _plip_. Link feels somewhat betrayed by this.

A shadow passes over the steps, blocking the light. Links looks up. His heart does a funny flip-twist thing, and feels like it’s simultaneously beating too fast and not at all. Sidon stands astride the top step, one foot poised as if about to descend. His face is in shadow, but his body absolutely glitters under the light of the moon and luminous stones. Sidon has never looked so beautiful, so utterly gorgeous — except on maybe every other day of his Goddess-blessed life — and in this moment Link might just be willing to admit he’s at least a little bit in love.

If only to himself.

Sidon speaks before he can, and though the prince’s face is hidden, Link can imagine the expressions forming on it, picturing them in his mind to match Sidon’s words and tone.

“Link! My dearest friend, it is you! I had spotted the glow of the shrine as I made my patrol, and was terribly excited by the prospect of seeing you this evening! But when you did not come out, I began to worry. I feared you to be injured, or that perhaps…” There is a tenseness to the prince as he shakes his head that Link is unaccustomed to, though it does not last long. “It is good to see you, though, and better to see you unharmed.”

Link laughs nervously, a sound between a breathy gasp and a strained cough, and holds the slate tighter to his chest. “Oh, well, yes, you…too?”

An awkward silence descends as Sidon politely waits for him to finish, and Link tries desperately to remember where he was going with that. After a moment, Sidon clears his throat and continues brightly, “Ah, but how rude I am being, having you wait down there. Please, my treasure, come join me! I have truly missed you.”

With a dramatic flourish, the Zora prince extends a clawed hand out to him. The moonlight catches on a glint of sharp teeth, grinning wide and open and inviting. Something dark and tightly wound begins to relax in Link’s chest, and a smile tugs at his lips. Sliding the Sheikah slate back on his belt, he ascends the steps.

The book he leaves wherever it fell. Maybe he’ll come back for it later. Maybe he won’t. (He probably won’t.) Zelda would never have let him take it if she honestly cared what happened to it.

They’d learned that a lifetime ago.

His hand has barely touched Sidon’s when he finds himself swept up in strong arms. Link ends up crushed against Sidon’s chest, cheek resting on the slippery-soft fabric of his sash. A hand at his back holds him close and an arm under his thighs holds him up. Sidon nuzzles the top of his head, and chuckles.

“Ah, you must forgive me, but I did miss you. It is good to have you back here, with me.”

It’s only when Sidon makes to put him back down that Link remembers how to speak. And breathe. Breathing is important. (Sidon is important.)

“Imissedyoutoo!” The words all tumble out at once, and Link is left feeling shaky and breathless, like he just tried to outrun a Lynel on foot. Not that he’s ever tried to do that, or anything.

But at least his words have the intended effect, whether Sidon understood them or not. The hands holding him tighten, claws digging lightly into his skin in a way that’s pleasantly short of painful, and Sidon sighs against him.

“I wish we did not have to part so often, love, but I know Hyrule needs you more than I alone do.” 

Link feels a twinge of guilt at this. While it’s not technically untrue, it hasn’t exactly been true this past week. The most dangerous thing he’s done since fighting the Hinox is talk to Zelda.

“But, here you are! Hah, here we are, I suppose.” Sidon chuckles, a rich sound that vibrates in Link’s bones. “You must tell me of all your adventures and conquests since I have seen you last! That is, unless you visited with some other purpose in mind.”

The last part is said with a smile and a lilt that lands just short of being suggestive, but makes Link blush anyway. He shuts down that train of thought before it can even begin. Not going there. 

Besides, he has a Plan.

Sort of. He may have just made it up right now.

But. Anyway. There are two things Link wants. Well, two things Link is willing to admit he wants. (There are a lot more he won’t even think about wanting.) He wants to spend time with Sidon, and to make Sidon happy. And, honestly, Zelda may have been well intentioned but her idea isn’t going to get him very far with either of those. 

This will.

Link puts on his most dazzling smile, the one that he knows always gets him his way, and lets out a little laugh. “I may have. I was hoping you’d like to go fishing with me.”

It might be a trick of the moonlight, but Sidon’s eyes suddenly seem a lot more black than they were a second ago. But the prince’s expression is open and happy and a little surprised. A bright white smile flashes sharp and warm in the dark, though it seems more tentative than before.

It’s (almost?) exactly the reaction Link was hoping for. But it’s not quite right. His hands tangle in Sidon’s royal sash, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. In for a rupee...

“I don’t think I’ve ever been spear fishing before. I’d imagine you’re quite good at it.” Link flattens his hands, palms spread out. Blue fabric ripples underneath them. The tips of his fingers brush against Sidon’s bare skin. He looks up, meets Sidon’s eyes. “Maybe you can teach me something?”

Sidon loves showing him Zoran things (not thinking about it) and showing off for him. Link loves letting him. This is perfect. Link is almost surprised it’s never come up before, in their many meetings and outings together in the Domain. But then again, he usually spends them dragging Sidon around from place to place, fighting and exploring and looking for treasure. Perhaps the prince thought it too mundane for him. Too quiet.

But right now, he thinks, quiet might be nice. Just the two of them, together. Maybe he’ll work up the courage to try flirting. Maybe Sidon will kiss him then.

Maybe a lot of things.

It’s a good Plan.

Have Sidon’s eyes always been this black at night?

“Is that what you desire, pearl?” Sidon’s reply is deep and drawn out, almost like a purr. The words are framed by the glint of razor-sharp teeth on display, grinning wide and open and a little feral. “Is that what you want, truly?”

The words — no, not the words, the tone, the timbre of them, send shivers down Link’s spine. He nods silently, rubbing absent-minded circles on Sidon’s chest where his splayed fingers rest. When Sidon laughs, a low, throaty laugh that that does funny things to Link’s lungs, he feels it under his palms. Between the sudden thundering in his chest and the rushing in his ers, Link almost misses what Sidon says next.

“I do know a great place for fishing.”

The way Sidon says _fishing_ is weird. It reminds Link, oddly enough, of the way Urbosa used to talk about dancing. Urbosa had loved dancing. She would ask Zelda to dance with her all the time.

Maybe Sidon just really loves fishing?

He’ll have to thank Zelda later. This is turning out to be a great idea.

“Then,” Link asks, “shall we?”

Sidon’s answering smile is far too full of teeth, but Link is used to that. When Sidon moves to place him, gently, back on his feet, Link doesn’t try to stop him. He allows himself to feel disappointed at the loss of contact and closeness, even if it is a bit silly. There’s something immensely comforting about being held, something that makes him feel as though he doesn’t have to try quite so hard to be strong, just for a while. But he can hardly expect Sidon to carry him around places, nice as it might seem.

(Sidon certainly didn’t have a problem with it before.)

Blushing lightly, Link takes Sidon’s proffered hand and lets himself be guided towards the second level of the Domain. This is nice too, actually. They’ve never held hands before. Well, never like this. Sidon has taken his hands plenty of times, in exclamation or thanks or to help him over boulders when they went out, but never like this. This is different. Steady. Sidon’s hand is solid and warm around his, too large to really line up properly but Link has never felt intimidated by Sidon’s size. If anything, it makes him feel safe.

This, Link thinks, is something else he wants.

The Domain is always quiet at night, and it’s not until they reach the upper level that Link even spots other Zora. The customary pair of guards are stationed at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne room, looking bored, though they scramble to salute when Sidon comes into view. Their prince waves them down, tugging Link towards the northwest bridge heading out of the Domain. One of the guards, a young Zora whose name Link always forgets, winks at him as they pass. Link looks away.

He’s probably going to have to deal with that too, at some point. But goddess, if he can’t even talk to Sidon about this, how is he supposed to talk to other people? Maybe he can ask (haha) Sidon to do it for him. He knows the prince will have no problem telling absolutely anyone (and most likely everyone) about this...thing, whatever it is. Whatever it becomes.

The Zora as a whole had never really gotten behind the concept of privacy. Too many communal sleeping pools for that, he supposes. Link eyes the planes of Sidon’s exposed back, the rippling muscles of his legs, the sway of his bare arms. The Zora never really got behind the concept of modesty, either. That, at least, Link can appreciate.

They’re halfway across the bridge when he realizes Sidon did not actually bring a spear. Link frowns. Sure, he probably has an extra one or six rattling around in his slate’s storage, but did Sidon know that? Did he just guess, or assume? It’s unusual of the prince to be so reliant on Link’s (un)preparedness. Sidon always brought multiple weapons with him whenever they went out, and usually ended up lending one or more of them to Link, not the other way around

Even if Sidon was just going to demonstrate (unlikely), surely he would have at least grabbed—

“Watch your step here.”

Link startles. They’ve reached the end of the bridge, carved stone turning to packed dirt under his feet without him even noticing. But where the path continues on towards Upland Zorana, Sidon has turned them to the right, to where the cliff drops off to the river below.

“The path is old, dearheart. Please, do be careful.” Sidon’s voice is low, hushed against the stillness of the night. Link treasures these moments, when Sidon is quiet and soft and slow and his. As much as he admires and loves the loudness, the boldness, the quiet is something he knows few get to see. The prince can say as much with a smile and a laugh as he can with a thousand words.

Of course, he’ll probably say the thousand words as well. But Link loves that about him, too.

Sidon’s warning piques his curiosity, though, and Link peers at the darkened cliff. A path, winding and just barely visible, descends sharply down to what appears to be a small beach, just below the waterfall. Link feels a little put out that he had never noticed it before.

Sidon motions for him to go first, and follows once Link has made a decent amount of progress. The path _is_ old, well-worn from centuries of use and weather, and even Link makes an effort to be careful on it. He’s a little tempted to just jump off — at this distance, it would only hurt a _little_ bit — but he knows how much Sidon hates it when he does that.

Still, the slow descent gives him time to admire the scenery. The path ends on a grassy knoll, shaded by trees and rich in flowers and, _mmm_ , mushrooms. He makes a note to come back and check them out later. The grass slopes gently towards the water, and tapers off into a small, rocky looking beach. He can just about make out a school of fish, swimming together against the current a few yards below the spray of the waterfall. It looks like the perfect spot for fishing — at least for a Zora.

The current is awfully strong for a Hylian, though. Link watches as even the fish seem to struggle against it. He won’t say anything, of course, but he thinks it may have been better if they’d gone downstream, somewhere the water ran softer and pooled gently around the rocks. Oh well. It would be alright if he stayed in the shallows.

Link is relieved when he touches down on the grass. He’s never had much patience for climbing, especially climbing _down_ , and the restraint makes him feel antsy. He paces to the beach immediately, kicking off his shoes as he goes and knowing Sidon will follow. He stands at the jut of the shore, far enough in for the water to lap over his ankles but close enough to the cliff to not scare off the fish. The water is a little cold. Link wraps his arms around himself and shivers. Maybe more than a little cold.

The view is worth it, though. The Domain proper towers above them, shimmering and silver, majestic and serene in a way it only looks at night. The thundering falls cast a fine mist in the air that floats like fairy trails above the swoops and arches of the guardways. The beach is peaceful in a way that still surprises Link, natural and untouched even by the Calamity.

He hears Sidon coming up behind him, and tilts his head back. Quietly, he murmurs, “It’s beautiful here.”

He feels Sidon at his back, and then suddenly the prince is all around him. Link finds himself framed by a pair of powerful legs as Sidon kneels behind him, strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him flush against a wonderfully well-defined chest. It’s much warmer already.

When Sidon replies, his breath ghosts pasts Link’s sensitive ears, making them twitch. “You are beautiful, here.”

And _oh_ , Link really does not know what to do with that. Or with the hands now sliding slowly over his body, mapping out the planes of his shoulder and the slope of his hip.

“So beautiful,” Sidon whispers against his ear, and Link shivers again, albeit for a different reason. “So brave, and always so bold. How is it you can say, in so few words, what I have spent a week worrying about. For all my bravado, I could never be as forthright as you. For that, and much more, I will always admire you.”

Link is not really paying much attention to what Sidon is saying, though a niggling voice in the back of his mind tells him that maybe he should be. But the way the prince says it, low and close like a secret just for him, is so distracting that the actual content of the speech barely registers. The words still manage to make him feel bold and warm, and he stretches his arms back and up in a (somewhat awkward) embrace.

“I am so fortunate,” Sidon continues, “so lucky to have met you, my dearest, most precious Link, and more fortunate still that you had the courage I lacked. But then, you always have.”

The niggling voice is back, and would like to point out that this conversation has absolutely nothing to do with fishing. Link ignores it.

“I had worried, after you left, that perhaps I misunderstood, or perhaps you did...ah, but that is of little importance now. You are here, and I will not worry again.”

The hand at his hips dips lower, tracing a path down his thighs, and Link gasps. His body feels both hot and cold, and the world beyond Sidon’s arms seems so far away.

“Have I ever told you what you look like in the moonlight?” The hand at his shoulder is now on his chest, rubbing teasing circles on his nipples. Link forgets how to breathe again. “Ah, I suppose I haven’t. There are so many things I haven’t told you, my little Hylian gem. I shall strive to do better in this.”

Link can think of absolutely nothing Sidon needs to do better at, but then again he is only half-listening. Most of his attention is on the prince’s hands, on they way they move close but not nearly close enough. The hand on his thigh just barely brushes his crotch and he shudders, panting. He can feel Sidon’s lips against his neck, just under his ear. His own hands grasp tightly at Sidon’s headfins, holding his prince close.

“You smell amazing,” Sidon practically purrs against his skin, “like sunshine on water.”

Link is pretty sure that one, that isn’t a thing, and two, all he smells like is dust and old books, but he is not particularly inclined to argue right now.

“You are the opal of my eye, the—”

Link’s brain, or at least his mouth, chooses this moment to start working again. “Don’t you mean ah-ahhhh!”

Link chokes on his words as Sidon’s hands move in unison exactly where he wants them, caressing the growing hardness in his pants and pinching a nipple, delicately, between two claws. Sidon’s lips are on his skin, dropping tender, laughing kisses on his neck and shoulder, and it’s all simultaneously too much and not enough.

“Sido-on,” he moans before he can even think about it, the name slipping out of his lips like a prayer. If he were thinking a bit more clearly (or at all, really), he might be embarrassed, but all he can manage to care about right now is the way Sidon makes him feel.

It’s a bit like the good kind of falling. The exhilaration, the fun-fear of a rush before impact. The anticipation of landing. The tinny voice of his conscience, telling him maybe he should stop and think about what he’s doing.

Sidon nuzzles his cheek. “Always so confident,” he whispers, amusement and marvel in his voice. The words are so low, Link wonders if they were meant to be heard at all.

Link forgets them, though, as Sidon’s hand moves up to cup and turn his face and Sidon’s lips move to cover his and they’re kissing, slow and sweet and everything Link wanted. Everything and more.

It’s like last time, and every time since (and before) in his dreams, only better. Here and now, under the shadow of the Domain and the waning moon, this is real. This is his. He can have this.

He’ll just figure out the _how_ later. Probably.

As nice as the kissing is — and it’s really, really nice — the position is killer on his neck. Link pulls away, eliciting a sad little _ahh_ from Sidon that he wishes he could bottle up and keep forever. He goes to turn around, perhaps a bit faster than truly necessary, and loses his footing on the rocky beach. He ends up half-falling, half-hanging on Sidon, palms landing solidly on the prince’s torso.

Though the motion had neither the momentum nor the weight behind it to actually knock Sidon off balance, Link is surprised when Sidon falls backward. He has a split-second of true panic before Sidon’s hands on him are pulling him down too, and they land together with a splash. The panic is followed quickly by arousal and embarrassment when he realizes this new position leaves him sprawled out on Sidon’s lap, legs falling in the water to either side of Sidon’s.

Through the fog of heady warmth clouding his mind, Link wonders if they’ve just scared away all the fish. It seems like an important question, but he can’t really remember why.

“And what have we here?” Sidon’s teasing voice brings him back to the present. “A pretty little minnow, by the looks of it.”

The way Sidon says it, like a joke between the two of them, throws Link off. But Sidon’s nicknames have always been a bit on the ridiculous side, and they’ve only been getting worse. Link doesn’t pay much mind to it, not when Sidon’s hands are at his side, slipping under his dirt-stained tunic — the same one he’s been wearing for the past week. Link has a second to regret his constant state of all-around wardrobe failure before the hands start tugging, gently lifting the offending garment up and over his head.

Link scrambles to help, suddenly very much onboard with this idea. Afterall, Sidon can’t notice how ratty his clothes are if he’s not wearing them.

It’s a brilliant plan, and if the end result — after some contortion and a bit of shimmying — is him naked and slightly winded in Sidon’s lap, well, apparently these things happen to him now.

There’s not much for Sidon to take off in turn, but Link reaches for his hands before he can even start. Link cannot (could never) manage to form the words to say so, but he would like for Sidon to leave his regalia on. He’s always thought Sidon looked so very attractive adorned in silver and gems. Plus, the feather is honestly just adorable.

Sidon understands, at least enough to change course, threading their fingers together and using the leverage to pull Link up and close into a kiss. It’s wet and warm, more tongue and teeth than the first one, and the change in position grinds Link’s neglected erection against Sidon’s half-emerged cocks. Link shudders, gasping and moaning into Sidon’s lips even as he rocks his hips against Sidon’s body.

When Sidon’s tongue enters his mouth, slick and rough and almost too much, it feels like a promise.

They part, panting. Sidon watches him with shuttered, hungry eyes like the moonless sky. Link can feel their gaze like a brand, burning hot trails down his body. When Sidon licks his reddened lips, he whimpers.

He barely even realized Sidon was still holding his hands until one of them is drawn down, gently guided to rest on the larger of Sidon’s cocks. Link freezes, the chill of bone-deep anxiety racing down his spine, telling him he was absolutely not qualified to be doing this. He’s afraid to move until Sidon arches into the touch, the movement like a shudder and a thaw.

Link lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and lets himself feel. Sidon is slick and wet — so incredibly wet — under his hand, a feeling of rough-but-soft that Link can’t get enough of. The underside is oddly ridged instead of smooth, and Link runs his fingers over the strange bumps in fascination. A touch at his wrist stops his exploration and the chill comes back, but only for a second before Sidon’s voice melts it away.

“Ah, as much as I enjoy what you are doing, I think we will both enjoy the next part even more.” Sidon’s lips find his neck, and leave a soft trail of kisses under his ear. “Don’t you agree, my sweet little fish?”

Link would agree to literally anything Sidon suggested right now. When the touch returns to his wrist, gentle but insistent, Link doesn’t resist. Any disappointment he feels evaporates quickly when he realizes where Sidon is guiding his sticky-slick hand.

“I wish I could touch you like this, but…” The pressure at his wrist moves, becoming two claws scraping lightly up his arm. “Ah, I do not wish to hurt you.”

Face burning, Link is grateful Sidon is no longer looking at him. He doesn’t think he could handle that right now. He rests his overheating face in the crook of Sidon’s neck, hiding his eyes in the folds of the prince’s crisp white cravat. Sidon’s hand slides down to cup his ass, holding him up and open. 

As he slides the first finger inside himself, he thinks about all the times he has done this same act before, alone and wishing for exactly this. Perhaps what they say is true. Perhaps he really is the goddess’s favorite.

The kisses on his neck become bites, stingingly sharp and deliciously hard, and Link muffles his cries in Sidon’s chest. The second finger burns, and by the third he is rocking back and forth between his own hand and Sidon’s dripping cocks. The water, churned by the movement, breaks into waves against his legs.

Link growls when Sidon tries to move away, biting at the strip of creamy flesh between his neck and shoulder. All this earns him is an amused chuckle and a squeeze on his ass.

“Such a lively little fish you are! Won’t you let me catch you?” Sidon rolls his hips as he talks, the motion causing his cocks to slip down Link’s stomach and between his legs and _oh_ , okay. Link is okay with this.

Link is very okay with this.

With a slick pop he pulls back his fingers, leaving himself feeling open and exposed in the cool air. Sidon’s hand on his ass pull him up, spreading and positioning him in the air above the prince’s waiting cocks. The tip of the larger one brushes his hole, smearing his cheeks with thick precome.

Sidon leans forward so their foreheads touch. “Is this alright?” he murmurs, voice laced with equal parts concern and lust.

Link doesn’t even think before nodding, hips already twitching impatiently. Sidon’s smile is like honey, and Link leans forward to taste it quick. The soft brush against his hole becomes blunt pressure, and then a burn as the thick head breaches his entrance. Sidon enters him agonizingly slow, and Link shudders at every inch that presses inside him, every ridge that stretches his entrance open even further. 

By the time Sidon is seated fully inside him, Link is shaking and dizzy. He feels stretched out and full in a way that no amount of fingers ever left him. There’s an ache and burn as his body tries to tell him this is not what it was built for, but he shoves that thought aside. 

It takes him a moment to realize he isn’t the only one shaking, that Sidon is panting under him, mouth open and eyes closed. Sidon has always worn his expressions so openly, but something about seeing him looking like this, vulnerable and half-gone in pleasure, does funny things to Link’s heart.

He wants to see what that face looks like when he comes.

With his hands on Sidon’s chest to brace himself, Link lifts himself up as far as he can, gasping at each ridge that slips out of him. The rocky ground digs into his knees, but the way Sidon’s eyes flutter open more than makes up for it.

“Are y-ahhh!” Sidon’s question becomes a choked shout when Link reverses course, rolling his hips as he sinks back down. It’s easier taking it in the second time, the burn giving way to pleasure as it fills him. The feel of Sidon’s second cock sliding between his cheeks is weird, but not unpleasant.

“My light, my love, allow me.” Sidon’s words burn with promise, and when Link goes to rise again, Sidons hands are there, lifting him up just higher than he had managed on his own, then pulling him back down — hard. Link screams when Sidon drives into him, the feeling different than before — and so, so much better. Sidon lifts him again, higher, and pulls him down again, harder, and Link breaks. It’s all he can do to keep moving with Sidon, helpless pleas and moans tumbling unbidden from his lips.

“Oh, please, Sidon! Please, please…”

Link feels heavy and dizzy and breathless and desperate. With every move, every thrust, pleasure bursts across his body like fireworks, but like fireworks, it fizzles. Burst, fizzle, burst, fizzle, an amazing, tortuous cycle that leaves his body aching for release. He brings his hand, still sticky-damp, down to his own hard cock. The tips is leaking and swollen, and just touching it makes him tremble. A stroke, in time with Sidon’s thrust, makes him cry out. A second has his head thrown back, and on the third he comes, hot and wet, on Sidon’s chest.

For a second everything is quiet, even his own head. He comes back to himself in pieces, to the sting of Sidon’s teeth in his shoulder and the trickle of warm liquid coating his back and legs. He whines when Sidon slips out of him, leaving him feeling empty and raw and kind of disgustingly covered in come.

At least they’re already near the water...

Sidon is nuzzling his head, kissing his hair and face and neck with lips that smell like blood, but Link is too distracted to notice. He’s watching the fish swim by their little cove, apparently undisturbed by what happened, and remembering what Sidon said to him.

And what he _said to Sidon_.

Link has a sinking (haha) feeling that he knows exactly _how_ this happened, and dear goddess is it just as bad as last time. Or worse. Possibly worse.

He remembers the book, and Zelda’s smile, and...

Definitely worse. If he died from embarrassment, would Mipha still bring him back? (Probably.)

He doesn’t even realize he’s made a noise of distress until Sidon’s face is there in front of his, concern marring his beautiful features, and just no. Link could never handle that face. It made him want to go out and do stupid things, like fight Lynels and take back Divine Beasts and defeat the Calamity. And he might be a fuck-up in all aspects of his life, but at least this fuck-up was a good fuck-up, and damn if Link is not determined to keep fucking it up.

But, you know, in the good way.

Because, against all odds, he _was_ going to make this work.

“What are you thinking about, my bravest?” Sidon’s voice is soft and even and a little worried.

Regicide, Link thinks. The sham that is my life. 

“I’m hungry,” is what he says, and it’s enough to make the worry melt off Sidon’s face. The prince practically lights up, breaking into a smile strong enough to replace the sun.

“I can catch you something!”

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere in Hyrule Castle, Zelda is laughing right now. (But nicely.)  
> Now that their relationship is better established, I plan to continue this series with shorter fics along the same vein.  
> Got any good (or bad) ideas/propositions/euphemisms you'd like to see? Send them to me! I'll credit you if I use them in a future fic.


End file.
